


In Another Time

by moreofalark



Category: Edgar Allan Poe's Murder Mystery Dinner Party (Web Series)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Gen, Poe Party Secret Santa 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 02:55:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13114491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moreofalark/pseuds/moreofalark
Summary: Prompt: Wellenore going on dates through time.For Lillithorn on tumblr.Lenore and H.G. spend a lot of time working on the time machine and not communicating. They have fun, in their own way.





	In Another Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lillithorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillithorn/gifts).



> (Special thanks to Natasha for beta-ing this even though she has never seen Poe Party <3)

I.  
The wedding was an accident.

They had traveled to the mid 1800s during a particularly stormy England November to see how the time machine fared in turbulent weather. Emerging into pouring rain, Lenore supposed the test had worked. A droplet ran down her cheek. Her makeup was totes going to smudge.

“Did it work?” HG asked tentatively. Lenore turned to see him spinning in a dazed circle. She placed her hands on his shoulders and wiped the fog from his glasses with her palm. His hazel eyes peered at her through the glass before he laughed, tugging the goggles down around his neck. “Well, it’s raining alright!”

Lenore looked around: they were on a Main Street of some sort, small shops and houses lined up. In the grey cold, the warmth seeping from the cracks in the window sills was far too alluring. Lenore would literally die (if she could) to be indoors, dry by a fireplace. H.G, however, didn’t seem at all bothered by the weather- if anything his excitement only grew as the rain poured. It was kind of adorable. 

As HG looked around, she wondered what they would do next. They had spent almost a year conducting different tests on the time machine, finding its constraints and improving its quality. But now that they knew that the machine was relatively safe, where would they go? There were no limitations: they were immortal beings with access to all of time and space. Though that power should have been incredible, it was nothing short of terrifying. 

“Are you lost?” A voice pulled Lenore’s attention away from her thoughts. A jovial man peeked out of the doorway, light streaming out behind behind him. She glanced at H.G, who looked back at her with earnest eyes. 

“Yup, totally lost,” she said.

“Why don’t you come inside and I can help you orient yourselves?” The man asked. “It is very cold out here in the rain.”

“Thank you so much,” HG replied. Normally, Lenore would never go into a stranger’s house (duh), but it was so dreary in the street, and curiosity beckoned. She followed HG up the man’s stairs and into his small home. 

The front hall was bursting with light, lit candles in alcoves in the ceiling. " You are very welcome to stay here for as long as needed. We love having guests. My name is Mr. Barker, by the way." 

“I’m H.G, and this is Lenore.”

Lenore curtsied. “Charmed.”

They were joined by the sound of puttering footsteps: down the stairs ran two small girls, ringlets in their hair. Mr. Barker bent down and held them to him, one child on each side. "These are my daughters," he said to the time travelers. "Katherine and Charlotte." 

The taller girl looked at Lenore with devilish eyes. "I'm Kate. I'm seven years old."

"You're ancient!" Lenore had never been excellent with kids. 

"Why are you wearing a wedding dress?" The smaller girl, Charlotte, asked. 

To that, Lenore did not have a clever answer. At this point it was easy to forget the reason behind her afterlife attire, as no one ever mentioned it. But she was suddenly very aware of how odd it was- a traveler appearing in a wedding dress, in the pouring rain? She didn't know how to respond. 

Thankfully, she had H.G, who only floundered for a moment before responding. "We just came from one. A wedding, I mean." 

Mr. Barker's face filled with surprise, then excitement. "A bride and groom! How wonderful! Mrs. Barker, you must come see this." A beautiful matronly figure soon appeared from the kitchen, cheeks rosy. "Mrs. Barker, these are our guests, Mr. and Mrs. HG Just today they were part of a wedding party!"

"Oh, how delightful!" Mrs. Barker said, head ducking politely. "Please, join us for tea and cakes. We would love to help you celebrate your nuptials."

"Oh, we couldn't," HG protested. 

Mrs. Barker shook her head, smile growing every minute. "But you must! It's really no trouble."

Lenore shot a hasty look at H.G, who was growing increasingly red. "Sounds fab," she said. She could spot another party planner miles away, and she didn't have the heart to pry this joy from Mrs. Barker's sadly calloused hands. Besides, they were time travelers. They were in no rush. 

Later, she would wish she had taken the out when she had the chance. The tea itself was lovely, yes, and the Barkers were an adorable couple, completely in tune to each other's thoughts. The conversation, however, kept turning towards her and HG's supposed relationship. She was grateful for HG's quick thinking, but a wedding? Why were they wandering around in a random town after their wedding instead of partying with their friends and getting wasted? Seriously. In hindsight, she should have just said wearing white after Labor Day was the new trend. She could’ve had such an impact on nineteenth century fashion. What a waste. 

Meanwhile, HG was shrinking in on himself next to her on the settee. She cautiously placed a hand on his shoulder while Kate, a wonderful distraction, was insisting that she had only had one biscuit and thus deserved another. "Hey," she mouthed, “You okay?"

"I'm afraid I'm not a terribly good liar."

"Oh please, you're doing great. I mean, saying we just came from a wedding? Good thinking."

"It's entirely unrealistic, however. Why aren't we at our reception? Where are our rings? We could get caught at any minute."

"I know. Just, relax, okay? Have a little fun." She nudged him playfully and winked. 

"Okay," he finally said, an impossibly small nod escaping him. 

"Terribly sorry.” Mr. Barker pulled the pair from their conversation. “She can be very determined. So tell me again, how did you two meet?"

How did they meet? That would be a tremendous lie- how could they tell the truth? Oh yeah, we met at a dinner party turned murder rampage where almost everyone died. But don’t worry, it all turned out fine and now we get to haunt together! Lenore wondered how they were going to make it through the afternoon. 

"We met at a dinner party," HG said eventually, twinkle in his eye. Lenore prepared for disaster. "I spotted her from across the room and fell in love instantly. She was the most beautiful, ethereal woman I had ever seen." 

"How lovely!" Mrs. Barker clasped her husband's hand. Lenore took a sip of tea, hoping the cup would cover the blush spreading across her cheeks. 

"I had to wait a long time before she accepted my proposal. I almost died waiting." 

"And what happened?"

It took a moment for Lenore to realize Mrs. Barker was looking at her. "How could I reject him? I said yes, obvi."

The Barkers, seemingly satisfied with the story, launched into a tale of how they had met. Thankfully HG cleared his throat and stood. "If you'll excuse us, we really must be going. Could you direct us to the nearest post office?"

"Why, yes. There's one just a five-minute's walk away down Main Street." Mr. Barker stood as well, Kate clinging to his legs. "We can show you there, if you'd like."

"No thanks." Lenore brushed her dress off, pulling herself close to HG "My man and I want some alone time, if you know what I mean."

It didn't look like they understood, but they conceded anyway, wishing them well as the time travelers headed back into the street. It had stopped raining, and a haze had fallen across the town. HG stuck his hands in his pockets. Lenore watched him, his feet making long strides, eyes upcast. 

"You're actually a pretty good liar, H.G," she said, eyes on his figure.

"Well," he replied, kicking a pebble with the tip of his shoe, "the best lies are based in truth." 

She started at his words. What did that mean? She wanted to probe him further, better understand what went on in his head, but he had already slipped his hand into hers. "Let's go," he said. 

Out of time they went, questions still hanging on her tongue.

 

 

II.  
The party was a surprise. 

HG had requested a quick trip to the 400s to gather some materials for time machine repair, a simple maintenance trip to yet undiscovered mountains. They did not land on the countryside, that was for certain.

They materialized in a fanciful ballroom, ornate furniture pushed aside, trumpets blaring. Lenore shot a concerned look at HG but couldn’t spot him in the chaos: androgynous forms were careening around her, bright sequins glistening in the starlight. She slipped seamlessly into the mass, all the while scanning the crowd for HG He must’ve been trampled by the crowd, he could be dead (no he couldn’t). How had they gotten here? In another time she would have thrived surrounded by the sweat of strangers, but she was used to the space of an echoing attic, the sprawling hills of nowhere, her and HG the only living beings (never mind) for miles. Surrounded by breathing bodies for the first time in a long time, she was flustered, floating in this unfamiliar place without him to anchor her. 

Until then, she had never noticed how codependent they had become. What had changed? It was strange, this sense of domesticity that had developed. They weren’t even together. In another time she would have grabbed the nearest fellow and waltzed, bodies pressing together. Why didn’t she do that anymore?

She would waltz, she resolved. Find any man, say hello, dance. No names, no conversation, no afterwards. Just dancing. She stopped scouring the room for a familiar pair of goggles and let go. The crowd surged around her, energy vibrating. Lenore leaned into it. After so many trips spent talking about science and life and other important things, it was a breath of fresh air to let her body do the talking. She was free.

She knew she was not not herself when she was with HG She hadn’t changed, fundamentally. But it was frightening to look back and notice how far she’d traveled since she died, how much was different, how much she knew. It was terrifying to realize that if HG left, she’d have nothing: life with Edgar would be so terribly dreary when she knew there were other adventures out there. And HG could absolutely leave- he could find someone more classically trained, an engineer of some sort, who cared about machinery as much as Lenore cared about fashion. Forever would be a long time to spend without him. 

And she did trust HG- she knew he wasn’t going to leave her, knew she was being silly- but in the whirl of dancers and bubbling of distant champagne, she was reminded of a time when she didn’t worry about future or past. What fun could she have today, tonight? Who would she love this week? There was a reliability to the spontaneity with no chance of the rug being ripped out from under her. She used to be in control. 

And so she danced, letting the anonymous crowd take her. 

Later, she would slip over to the bar with a handsome fellow (or she was pretty sure he was handsome- the lights were surreptitiously dim) for a glass of champagne to celebrate their chance meeting. She hadn’t caught his name: he was a simple, lean figure in a canary yellow tie. In the back of her mind the image of a frantic HG was nagging: his shirt unbuttoned, hair disheveled, hazel eyes searching in distress. 

“Has anyone seen a woman in a wedding dress?”

Lenore turned abruptly at the sound of H.G’s strained voice. Their eyes caught, H.G’s widening before his posture slackened in relief. “Thank goodness,” he sighed. “I thought I’d lost you.” He flicked his gaze towards the man at Lenore’s elbow, brow crunching in confusion.

“Well, hello there,” the stranger said, smooth American accent putting Lenore on edge. “Who’s this, sweetheart?”

There was bile in her throat. “This is HG H.G, this is-”

“Nick. Pleasure to meet ya, buddy.” The man -Nick- wrapped his arm around Lenore’s shoulders. Immediately she longed to get away from him: up close he smelled of overpowering cologne and ash. Across from them, HG’s hands tensed.

“We were just dancing and we got thirsty, so we um-” Lenore started. 

“I looked everywhere for you.” HG was looking at her expectantly. She yearned to explain herself but found she didn’t have the words. She bit her lip, watching his jaw clench. Then he focused on Nick. “Sorry, but do you know what year it is?”

“What year? You must be pretty far gone, small fellow.” Nick smirked, taking a deep sip of his drink. Lenore exhaled in the sudden space between them. “It’s 1921. September.”

H.G’s tone was measured when he answered. “Thank you,” he said. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go. Lenore, you’re welcome to join me.” Tight smile on his cheeks, HG nodded at Nick and looked at her for a moment before disappearing into the crowd.

“I’d best be off,” she said to Nick. On closer inspection, he was totally not her type. “I’d say ‘see you again sometime’, but that’s not gonna happen.” She maintained her composure until the sleaze-ball was out of sight, then took off after HG.

She caught up with him attempting to weave through a throng of chatting dancers. “HG!” she called. He froze in the midst of the whirling mob. Lenore approached him. “I’m ‘welcome to join you’? What, did you think I wanted to stay here?”

“Well, I couldn’t tell. You seemed pretty content.”

“What, with Nick? That was just for fun, HG. Tell me you haven’t forgotten what that is.”

“No. No.” Though they were so close together, he seemed worlds away. She longed to reach out and touch his arm, but refrained. “This isn’t about Nick. I... Did you even look for me?”

She swallowed.

“Did you even care? Because I, I was so worried- You know what? It doesn’t matter. Let’s go.”

He grabbed her wrist, grip gentle. She felt like crying.

And they were gone, the moment evaporating around them.

 

III.  
The milkshake was a reconciliation. 

Months had passed since their last foray into history. Lenore hadn’t mentioned the party and the dancing since returning to Edgar’s massive, gloomy mansion, and neither had HG. He seemed to be avoiding her, actually, sticking to the quiet corners of the library and the small study he used as a workshop. Lenore spent her hours in the attic. 

Edgar didn’t notice anything. If Annabel did, she didn’t say. 

This house was trapping. Too soon after their return Lenore found herself back in the same routine: wandering the halls at night, sitting in her attic in the afternoon. If anything, it was more boring than before the dinner party: Annabel was in charge of making sure Edgar was functioning now. And Edgar, somehow, was flourishing. He didn’t spend every hour writing achingly dull poetry in his study. He read in the library, and went for walks with Annabel. He was too cheerful. It was weird.

Pacing in the cramped attic, Lenore could feel herself sinking into the floorboards. She had way too much thinking time on her hands, and she was starting to get a little existential. God, she was turning into Edgar. All she could think of was the relief on HG’s face when he found her, the confusion when he realized she hadn’t been looking for him. It was a momentary lapse of judgement which she would regret forever.

She paused in her route around the perimeter of the room. Was she really going to mope around over one mistake for the rest of eternity? She was mourning a man who was literally downstairs. 

It was stupid, this realization, and far too belated. Yes, of course she had changed. Time had passed, and even if she was a ghost who didn’t physically age (thank god), she was different now, and she was glad.  
She was not the Lenore she was before she died. She was not the Lenore she was before the dinner party.

She didn’t want to be the Lenore who wasn’t with HG.

She flew down the stairs with the grace of a ghost, her feet barely touching the floor. HG was in this house, somewhere, and she had to talk to him.

She caught up with him in the library, where he was reading intently. He didn’t notice her initially, attention on the miniscule words laid out before him. She cleared her throat. His hazel eyes flicked up, looking at her through thick eyelashes. The dust settled around them.

“So. Hi. Long time, no see,” she said eventually. He didn’t reply, simply stared at her with those horribly doleful eyes. Lenore steeled herself. She would embrace rejection, as new as it was. She would be direct, not coy. She would tell him how she felt, no matter how terrifying it was. 

“Have you ever done something and then immediately regretted it?” She asked, the words spilling out. “Because I have. Obviously. I never think about anyone but myself. Before I died, it was always ‘how can they help me?’ and, like, ‘how can I steal her dress?’ God, even after I died, I forced Edgar to host that stupid dinner party. Edgar doesn’t like parties- Edgar doesn’t even like people! But I didn’t think about him. I only ever thought about me.”

“Lenore, you’re not a bad person,” HG interjected, lips pursed.

“Oh, no, I’m a terrible person. I know that. But that’s not the point- The point is that I don’t think about other people’s feelings, and I wasn’t thinking about yours that night at the party. And I’m sorry.”

He stood, gathering the ridiculously large book in his arms. “Lenore, I understand. There’s no need to apologize.” And then he was turning away, walking back into the stacks.

“No, I- I think about you all the time, HG. Do you know how scary that is?” He stopped walking. “I care about you. And I realized, at the party, how much I relied on you- and then I got scared and ran away. I know that doesn’t make it better, and I’m sorry that I’ve hurt you, but I love you.”

Immediately the book was on the floor and HG was turning towards her, face unreadable. “Let’s go somewhere.”

Though her heart was in her chest, it was adrenaline she welcomed. “I know just the place.”

Later, she would take a sip of her frothy pink milkshake and nearly spit it back out. The sickly sweet taste was probably going to be stuck in her mouth for the rest of her afterlife. Next to her at the bar, HG grimaced. “Delicious!” he said, somewhat halfheartedly.

Lenore laughed. “You can spit it out.”

“Oh, thank goodness.”

She was strangely a little nervous, second-guessing her decision that had brought them to this empty 50’s era diner. “We don’t have to stay here. I had just read about diner dates in the 50’s and so I thought-”

“Is this a date, Lenore?” 

“Do you you want it to be?” She retorted, surprised at how desperately she wanted to know the answer.

HG stared at her for a long time before responding. “Of course I do. I love you too, Lenore, I always have. I just wasn’t sure if you just wanted to be just friends-”

“No, no, no. Definitely wanna be more than friends.” 

HG smiled, cheeks red. “Fantastic.” Still grinning, he took another sip of his milkshake and gagged. “No, it’s still really disgusting.” 

She giggled. They sat there for a moment, basking in the moment. Then HG’s gaze passed Lenore and his eyes turned into saucers. “What is that?”

Lenore followed his gaze to the neon machine flashing in the corner of the diner. “Oh, that! I read about that, too. Can I just say, I’m hella literate? Anyway, I think it’s called a ‘jukebox’.”

HG stood, leaving his gross milkshake for the new, fascinating contraption. “How marvelous! How does it work?” He had flipped his goggles down over his eyes and was inspecting it from all angles.

“You put in money, and it plays a song. Pretty cool, I gotta admit.”

HG fished in his pocket, and, eventually coming upon a coin usable in their current decade, slipped it into the machine. Lenore observed him agonizing over the song selection, a grin on her face. Finally, he pressed a button, and turned to her with a coy expression as the jukebox began to play. “Care to dance?”

She nodded. They spun around the empty diner, laughing. Though a waltz was kinda the wrong dance for the song at hand (‘The Time Warp’, H.G? Really?), she was far too pleased to be pressed up against him, her head resting on his shoulder. “Where are we going to go next?” she murmured.

“I haven’t the slightest idea.” HG leaned his head against hers, leading her around the room. “What other date spots did you read up on?”

“Oh, so many. We could go roller skating in the 80s, or to a speakeasy, or they have this thing called ‘tinder’ in the early twenty first century we could try...”

“That sounds wonderful.” They swayed together even as the music stopped, floating around on the tile. Later they would travel far and wide, enjoying the sights and sounds of time together, but for now Lenore was content to just exist next to HG in a moment of peace. They had the rest of eternity to explore together, after all. They could take their time.


End file.
